


Stockholm, 1973

by soncnica



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood, Blood and Torture, Bloodletting, Bloodplay, Car Accidents, Carrying, Crazy Boys, Creepy, Cutting, Dark, Drugged Jensen, Drugs, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fainting, Fear, Gen, Hurt, Hurt Jensen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Knives, Loneliness, Mild Gore, Minor Injuries, No Disfiguration, No Slash, Not a death fic, Pain, Possessive Behavior, Psycho Jared, Psycho Jensen, Psychological Trauma, Serial Killers, Serious Injuries, Stockholm Syndrome, dark characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soncnica/pseuds/soncnica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is a serial killer. Jensen is his next victim. Or is he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Can’t believe I wrote this, oh dear God. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing and I'm sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes you might find.

Sometimes death comes into your life silently, unnoticeable.

Death can be a sneaky little bitch sometimes.

And then sometimes it comes into your life with a big bang and a sharp pain.

And sometimes it comes in the form of Jared.

“Are you a screamer?” he whispered into her ear, her blond hair getting into his mouth.

“Pl-lease…” The woman beneath Jared whimpered; tears all over her red face, mascara like a black river running down her cheeks and into her bloody mouth.

They all beg. All beg for their lives, _please_ and _please_ and _please, don't_.

Whatever.

“I bet you a-are.” He sing-songed into her ear before he cut her throat wide open.

She bled okay. Not awesomely or amazingly or spectacularly, but just okay. She was one of those women; suburbia housewives, husband on a business trip banging his secretary, kids in college blahblahblah. He was disappointed, really. He expected to see more from her tiny, slim neck. Oh well. Onto finding someone else then.

-:-

The rumble of the car beneath him was soothing in so many ways. It reminded him of the vibrations in someone’s throat when that someone screams and begs and cries. Oh so sweet. And the nice warm animal fur around the steering wheel of his SUV reminded him of the soft silkiness and heat of blood running between his fingers. Oh so sweet. He wanted it. Needed it.

More, soon, now.

That last chick he killed was a waste of time; stupid bitch didn’t even know how to bleed nicely. No wonder her husband was screwing his secretary.

He adjusted his sunglasses, the sun bright and hot on his face. He'd go into town tonight, go hunt for someone, someone … someone who'd be … special. And he'd take his time this time around … take all the time in the world to make whoever he picked bleed and bleed and bleed and bleed and bleed.

He smiled. “Gimme some fuckin’ rock.”

He turned the volume on the radio up and up and up, untill his thoughts, his jittery thoughts, his excitement … were all drowned in the sound.

_I'm on a highway to hell,_

_On the highway to hell_

He pushed his elbow through the open window, pressed his foot on the gas pedal a little more - gotta go faster – and sang:

_No stop signs,_

_Speed limit,_

_Nobody's gonna slow me down…_

-:-

The city was small. Some stupid little shithole in the middle of Nowhere, Desert. One long, long street, ending with the horizon, with three or four cars max on it, two bars, a gas station and a hardware store.

Sweet.

Small town like this, he’d have no problem finding someone. Someone male, because he had enough of chicks to last him a life time. Someone special. Someone who’d fight him like a man, struggle and yell and scream and not take any crap from him. Someone who’d give him a thrill, someone who’d make adrenaline go through his veins. Yeah, someone special like that.

-:-

He’d been sitting behind the bar counter, nursing his beer for at least two hours if not more. The beer was warm, his nose stung from all that cigarette smoke, his legs were bouncing up and down on the stool and the bartender was giving him strange looks… if someone wouldn't come in, someone special, then the bartender would just have to do. He ain’t gonna like it, wouldn’t enjoy it, because it would be like slaughtering a pig what with all that fat the man was carrying, but... even the devil eat flies when the going got tough.

He took a small sip of the warm beer, the bubbles all gone by now… t’was like drinking piss and looked around the bar. Again. No one. There was no one. Some bratty kids, home from college, to drink and eat their momma’s out of house and home, some attention whores, chicks, hitting on him so much, it made him wanna puke his guts out straight on the wooden bar counter. He smiled the ‘not tonight, ladies’ smile. Tonight… he had other plans. Some local men, drinking and talking about business and car and how the heat was unbearable. And the music; not too loud and not too quiet.

But Jared needed.

He just needed.

Needed to make someone bleed. Tonight. Soon. It was an itch he needed to scratch. And itch that hurt underneath his skin, an itch he wanted to scratch and sometimes did, while he bled himself. It was a need; like a snake in his veins.

-:-

The door opened. The wind that hit his sweaty back was hot.

Desert.

Fuck it.

The door closed. Someone sat next to him, brought the smell of the desert sand with him mixed with some sharp aftershave. Smelled so good.

“Beer, please. Make it cold.”

The bartender huffed; as if he’d bring anything but cold beer. Jared wanted to punch the pig’s face. No one would treat what was his like that. No huffing and strange looks and bored hands placing the glass on the surface and spilling half of the beer. No one… the man sitting next to him was his.

“Nothing like a nice cold beer, right?”

“Uh... yeah… yeah, man...” the man’s hands were wiping some imaginary dust off the wooden surface, “‘s freakin’ hot outside. ‘s freakin hot inside too.”

Jared noticed, yes.

His hands were sticky from sweat, his T-shirt was wet like someone dropped a bucket of water on him, his hair was sweaty too; bangs in his eyes like sharp needles poking into his green iris.

“Name’s Jared.”

“Jensen.”

They didn’t shake hands on it. Just grabbed their glasses and drank up. He could only imagine how cool that beer was going down Jensen’s throat, that throat he was gonna get some nice sounds out of later.

Jensen.

Yes.

He grinned into his glass and took one more sip.

-:-

They talked, joked, laughed, ordered more beer, talked women and cars and sports.

“Man, check out the rack on that babe.” he said and Jensen turned around so fast, Jared was afraid he’d get a whiplash. This was his opportunity with no one else around and with Pig the bartender going out back to get some more lemons, because apparently the chicks at the table in the back of the bar had a tequila party going on. He dumped some white powder into Jensen’s second beer. He made it himself, a little bit of this, a little bit of that, mix it all together and voila, the perfect shit that would knock Jensen out for a while.

He was proud of it … took him awhile to get it right though; right ingredients, right timing for it to work; mustn’t work too fast, mustn’t work too slow. Took a lot of testing, took a lot of accidents too. Man, the people he killed while testing it … they were lucky. They just went to sleep. Others … others weren’t that lucky.

Jensen turned around: “Man, I need to get laid.”

They both laughed. The only place Jensen was gonna get laid down tonight, he thought, would be that table that he spotted in a warehouse one town over.

Fuck yes.

His eyes sparkled when Jensen took a long sip of his beer.

-:-

“I’m waaaasted.”

“You’re not man, you had like two beers.”

“’m a lightweight.”

“Erm, okay.”

“I need…”

“You need…?” Jared raised his eyebrows. “… find my car. Home. My sis is gonna be pissed.”

A sis? Jensen had a sister. Okay, this… puts a dent in his plan, Jensen never mentioned that he still had anyone. All through their talk, he found out that Jensen’s parents were gone, he had some friends up in Canada, and now this… a sister. Damn it. But… Jared was awesome.

Smart.

Brilliant at logic.

He’d think of something.

Jensen’s sis would never go looking for her brother. Ever.

“Look, man… you can’t drive like this, okay? Let me give you a ride home,” he was watching Jensen search for something in his pockets; it’s funny how many times a drunken man can miss his pocket, “I’ll take ya home, okay?!”

“I walkhed…”

“You walked?”

Awesome, so awesome. No need to worry about cars then.

“Mhm…” Jensen nodded, flailing with his hand and spilling what little was left in his glass all over the counter.

“Okay, I’ll drive you home, okay?”

Man, talking to drunk people was the worst. No scratch that, when they puke all over ya, that’s worse.

But his patience was wearing thin and he needed Jensen outside and passed out on the back seat of his car. Now.

“Okay, man, let’s go.”

He waved Pig the bartender, who’s name was actually Henry, and paid for everything. Threw the money in the puddle Jensen’s beer made, just because…

-:-

The air outside was warm, not hot anymore, which was a blessing. He could breathe a lot easier now.

The night was his safety.

In the night, he could hide.

Hide Jensen.

“Okay, buddy, a few more steps and that’s my car there. Just don’t puke in it, okay?” Jensen laughed and stumbled a little, but Jared’s hand around his shoulders steadied him.

The car was there. Safe. Black as the night.

He leaned Jensen on the car, held him up with one hand on his chest – he was gonna bleed there soon – and started to fish for his keys.

Not much longer now.

“Youuu’s a gooodh friend, man… a goodh man…”

He had to smile a little at that, because in a few hours, Jensen was gonna cuss at him and scream at him and beg and beg and _please, please don’t, Jared, please no._

He couldn’t wait for that to happen.

-:-

“Found the keys.”

He jingled them in front of Jensen’s face, saw the man’s eyes go even glassier then they were before.

Just a few more seconds.

“Goodh..”

Just … a … moment.

“Man, I don’th…”

There it was.

There it was.

Jensen almost doubled over, if not for Jared’s hand on the middle of his chest, he’d hit ground and blood on the concrete would be bad. No one got to make Jensen bleed, but him.

“Jensen?” He acted confused, scared, but really, he was jumping up and down from joy. Inside, he was beaming.

“Jaredh, I don’t… I.. ah…”

He made a step closer to Jensen, bracketed the man’s legs between his own, slipped his hands underneath Jensen’s armpits and felt Jensen’s head hit his right shoulder.

“’s okay, man. Don’t fight it. Come on, ‘s okay. ‘s all good.” He whispered into Jensen’s nape, and felt the man shake his head on his shoulder in denial, his legs buckling, his hands gripping Jared’s shirt by his hips.

“Whut… cn’t…”

“Come on, man. Stop fighting it, s’ gonna happen if you want it or not. Shhhhh…”

When Jensen was just a dead weight in his arms, Jared smirked.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

He opened the back door; making no sound at all, holding Jensen clumsily against his right side, not letting him fall, oh no - nothing would make Jensen bleed, but him - and slowly put the boneless body on the back seat, covering Jensen's head with his hand as not to bang it on the door.

Jensen's breathing was calm, sleepy breaths that hit Jared's neck when he leaned close to rearrange Jensen's arms.

Moist, hot air on his overheated skin made goosebumps appear all over his body.

He couldn't wait to feel the wetness of Jensen's blood on his own skin, running between his fingers while the man would scream his throat raw.

Jared closed his eyes to enjoy that thought for just a little while ... ah yesss ... and then pushed Jensen's upper body a little to the right until Jensen was lying down on his side.

The car smelled like lavender. Smelled clean. His OCD about keeping things clean was probably the reason he hadn't been caught yet.

Maybe.

Or maybe it was just because he was smart. Damn smart. Damn smarter than smart. A freakin' genius.

-:-

Dragging Jensen further up the backseat of the car, until he was laying awkwardly on it - with his right hand hanging off the seat, his legs sprawled all over the place - was easy … Jared was strong, muscles gained while working out every morning and every evening. And being an ex-soldier, well, that didn't harm nothing either.

Jensen smelled like beer, sharp aftershave and sweat. It would make anyone's stomach turn, but Jared … he crawled a bit more into the dark interior of his SUV, leaned his head down towards Jensen's neck and took a deep breath in, smelling the guy across his jaw, up his cheek all the way up to the top of his head where Jensen's spiky hair got into his nose.

Smelled so good.

He wondered how Jensen's blood would smell.

He whimpered.

"Get your shit together, man."

He mumbled to himself and quickly crawled backwards from the back of the car, breathing in the fresh desert air.

He was sweating like a pig.

Damn it. If there was anything he hated, was sweat on his skin. Made him itch in places he had trouble scratching.

Damn desert.

Freakin' sand.

Freakin' heat.

-:-

The road was long, like a snake with no tail and no head, just one long, wide body sneaking through the desert; with rocks and sand and small bushes bracketing it … keeping it company.

A gas station here and there; a small spot of light in all that darkness.

The summer stars were bright tonight but the moon was brighter; it was like a competition as to who would dominate the night.

In the end ... it didn't matter, because the sun always came and it was brighter than anything.

-:-

It felt lonely … on the road. Felt almost like he was driving into eternity; never coming to the finish line, barely remembering where he started from. There was nothing but a yellow line in the middle of the road, separating the two lanes; two lanes that were rarely driven on.

So lonely. So dark.

He knew loneliness, he knew darkness. They were his only friends that life had given him.

Miss Darkness traveled with him; a constant companion sitting in the passenger seat of his car, giving him directions as to where to go, where to take a turn, where to stop. Where to hunt.

Miss Loneliness … well she was just there.

He didn't invite them; they just came. Out of the blue. When he was fourteen. Stepped into his life like old friends and just never left.

-:-

He shifted gears. Went a little slower. No rush. No rush. If he waited for so long, then he could wait a little longer.

And then he looked in his rear-view mirror and saw…

Jensen.

The man's head was turned towards Jared, some drool running out of the man's partly opened mouth, forehead and hair drenched with sweat, flashes of white teeth that could be seen between lips, when the moonlight hit Jensen just right.

He smiled.

It was a beautiful sight.

Maybe, maybe … just maybe, he could cut … just a small little cut down Jensen's cheek, just to see how all that blood would sparkle in the moonlight.

Just one small cut, right down that freckled cheek, just one tiny small cut, just for one drop of blood.

He hit the steering wheel.

No.

Shut up.

No cutting. Not yet.

But soon.

Soon.

He shifted gears again. Going even slower.

The anticipation; that sweet pain of waiting, waiting to open your present.

He shuddered.

's gonna be so sweet to open his present.

He took another glance at the back seat, the moonlight hitting Jensen at all the right angles…

's gonna be so awesome.

He bit his lower lip, almost to the point of it bleeding and then let go.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter and followed the yellow line. Slowly.

The anticipation was making his stomach hurt, but it was a sweet, sharp pain he could feel all the way up to his chest.

He'd wait.

Jensen was a way too amazing gift to be opened up too soon or with too much haste.

He didn't wanna brake the toy, he wanted to enjoy it.

-:-

His sunglasses rattled on the car's dashboard where he threw them earlier that night; he hit a hole in the road, the car shaking a little.

He glanced at the back seat where the movement caused Jensen's hand to slip a little more down, lodging it in the space between the front seats.

The man's wrist.

The man's wrist was almost hitting Jared's hip.

He swallowed. Swallowed down his need, told the snake in his veins to shut the fuck up, bitch, there would be no cutting yet. Not yet.

He looked out front, eyes on the road, trying to ignore the man's palm slightly brushing his clothes.

Fuck.

He shifted gears, slowed down the car; there was no one on the road anyway, if he was going snail slow, no one would notice or care and looked down.

That wrist. Jensen wore a watch there, the black belt obscuring Jared's view on the veins beneath the belt, veins he wanted to open up slowly, slowly, slower than slow.

There was a roar of blood in his head suddenly, catching him unprepared, making his eyes water … the need was so strong.

But no. He'd wait. He'd wait. Patience is a virtue, his mother always said.

He looked back at the road. All the same. Yellow line in the middle, desert on both sides, straight line of road.

Keep your eyes on the road.

Ignore Jensen's hand.

Ignore.

Ignore.

He pushed his fingers into the animal fur around the wheel, pushed his fingers into that softness, into that heat...

Ignore.

-:-:-

The warehouse he spotted while driving through the town earlier that day was just as he remembered. Hidden, with no living soul for miles around.

He did his research; he knew everything there was to know about the building, about the nearby town, about its people, about the history of this place. He knew … he knew he wouldn't be disturbed.

It was perfect.

It was more than perfect.

If he would be one of those people, he would say that it was just a little too perfect.

Jensen, the warehouse in a secluded area, where no one would bother him … them … yeah a little too perfect.

But he wasn't one of them, he didn't doubt … he did his homework.

-:--:-

Jensen hadn't stirred the whole time it took him to drive to the warehouse and he didn't stir when he opened the door and placed his hand on Jensen's calf.

"Ya still sleeping, huh?"

He squeezed the muscled calf, waiting for Jensen to do something about it, but there was nothing.

"'s okay, you get your sleep, man and I'll just get you somewhere more comfy, okay?"

He felt – it was just a tiny little thought in the back of his mind – as if he was talking to a friend; a drunk friend who just fell asleep in his car and needed a ride home.

But that thought disappeared as soon as it came.

Jensen was not his friend, never would be his friend ... friends were ... friends just weren't. Miss Darkness took care of that.

He crawled into the car, as much as he could; wanting to smell that smell again. He was getting addicted to it.

He looked down at Jensen's chest, where the man's pecs were outlined by his T-shirt and shook his head: "Fuck."

He looked back up, his eyes meeting the man's chin that was shining in the car's interior light.

He placed his fingers on the guy's neck, feeling the strong pulse beneath his fingertips and smiled.

"Thought you were dead there for a sec," he smirked, "'m gonna have so much fun with ya." he whispered, ignoring the way Jensen's eyes were moving beneath his closed eyelids. If Jared didn't know better, he'd say Jensen was having a nightmare.

He wished that the shit he gave Jensen wasn't so strong, coz if the man was having a nightmare … hearing him whimper would be so amazing.

He sighed.

Maybe he'd make Jensen whimper later.

He crawled back out and gripped Jensen's ankles and pulled, gripping the man's waist when he could and pulled his body all the way out of the car.

Jensen was heavy, muscled and tall; where Jared gripped there were bone hard muscles and warm skin when Jensen's gray T-shirt rose up by his hips.

"Alright now, alright, 'm gonna getcha inside, lay you down and then you can sleep some more, 'kay?"  
He whispered on Jensen's neck, breathing him in at the same time.

-:-

He carried Jensen in a fireman carry; the man's body a hot presence around his shoulders, his right hand locked tight around the man's thighs and his left one holding Jensen's arm in place … being so close to the man just made him come up with plans on what and how to do something about that arm his palm was wrapped around just then. It was distracting to say the least.

And feeling Jensen breathe was distracting too. On so many levels.

-:-

"'m gonna put ya down, now, alright?"

He leaned forward, slid his hands up Jensen's bare sides, feeling ribs beneath his fingers, and gripped Jensen's biceps to gently place him on a table that was standing forgotten by time in the middle of a room.

"There ya go."

He placed his hand on the guy's chest and pushed him down, being careful not to hit Jensen's head on the table; didn't need no egg sized bump there. He arranged his legs; pulled them up on the table and gently down, getting rid of the man's boots.

He stopped for a moment. Just one moment to watch. To see.

To see his new plaything, on display like that, for his eyes and his eyes only.

He placed his hands on his hips and said: "There, all nice and cozy." before he turned around and walked back out of the room.

He needed some...

... things.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

He was floating somewhere between darkness and light, pain and comfort. Just a boneless body in the sea of nothingness.

And then he opened his eyes and drew in a breath that rattled his bones.

He couldn't see anything for a moment, too lost in the world he had been in for so long, but then his eyes adjusted to the silver light in the room and he could see … not much really. Just a ceiling. Way up high.

He groaned and clutched at his head, the marching band playing in there not listening to his pleas of _stop it, fuck_.

He felt … sick. Oh so sick. His stomach was protesting at every movement he made even if it was just moving his hands.

"Whah?"

It was a normal thing to say … really it was … to say something to all that was surrounding him.

To all that silence and silver light.

But nothing responded.

Nothing said anything back to him.

And then.

Then it all came back to him.

-:-

_Shit._

_Fuck._

_Run!_

He quickly slid off the table, his sock clad feet hitting the cold concrete floor and rose up to full height, stumbling when he took his first few steps.

His stomach rolled.

_Whoah._

His eyes were blurry, t'was like looking at the world from under water.

He wiped at his eyes, getting rid of the murkiness.

One step.

He could see now how the room was illuminated; by the moonlight coming through some large windows way up the walls.

Next step.

There were some boxes on the floor and stumbling his toe on one of them: "Son of a bitch!" made him see stars for a moment. Pain in his head collided with the pain in his toe and his stomach rolled.

_Uh… fuck._

Next step.

The room started to rotate; going a little up, a little down, and a whole lot to the left.

He pressed his right hand to his stomach, rubbing it over his belly, trying to placate his muscles into not squeezing his insides into a bloody pulp.

He was gonna throw up.

_Oh fuck._

He put his left hand on some counter nearby; making some paper that was nearly dust now fall onto the floor, scattering everywhere, bend forward and rested his sweaty forehead on his forearm, letting the cold skin there cool down his warm forehead.

He breathed.

_Gotta get out of here. Out. Out. Out._

_Where's the way out? Where's the fuckin' way out?_

He raised his head from his arm and looked around; the image of the room swaying and swimming around him.

_Oh fuck, shit, damn._

-:-

Moonlight showed him how huge the room was; some sort of an office or something. A very big office.

He couldn't tell to be honest. Everything was blurry and his head was killing him.

_Was I drinking?_

_Was I…_

_Beer… I had beer._

Could still taste it in his mouth when he swallowed.

-:-

High walls were supporting a ceiling full of lights; big, small, long and short. Fluorescent lights that probably brightened up this vast space many years ago; made it look less sinister.

He could see, even in the almost darkness – that wherever he was, whatever this place was… was abandoned.

Had been for years.

And he couldn't see a way out. Just another wall to his left, some more boxes to his right, and ah there they were… a door.

-:-

He groaned when he got up to his feet again, unbending himself and circling his hand over his stomach one last time, grimacing a little at the pressure of everything he ate and drank in the last day starting to push and turn and twist inside of him.

_Uhgh…_

He rounded the table – the one who was his bed for God knows how long – supporting his heavy body with a hand on the smooth wooden surface and opened the door. It wasn't locked or hard to open, didn't make a sound and didn't disturb any dust.

He took a peek through the open door, looked left and right, like he was trying to cross a street and decided to go left. Down the corridor lined with doors.

Doors everywhere. Doors that were locked tight when he tried the handle … he just couldn't find the strength to kick them down and tear the place apart trying to find a way out.

He just hurt. Hurt everywhere. Head, stomach, knee, toe, his eyes were burning him and his mouth was dry.

-:-

The hallway soon ended in a huge hall. Probably a production hall of some sort; producing what, he couldn't tell.

All he could see was how huge it was.

Walls that were endless in their height, windows taller than tall, but dirty; sand and rain and time made them brown and sightless.

His stomach rolled.

"Gugh…"

He couldn't … walk, and running … running would make him collapse as soon as he'd make three steps.

All he could do was stumble and pray not to fall on his face and pass out while he made his way to the nearest wall to work his way up to the nearest door.

It smelled of rust. Smelled of gas and sweat and dust.

He gagged; barely suppressed the need to throw up everything he ever ate in his life.

And he needed to piss.

So badly, he thought his bladder was gonna explode.

All that beer…

_Fuck._

But he needed to get out of there. He needed to fuckin' run. Needed to go and hide. Needed to fuckin' not kid around here.

-:-

He walked; slowly. Couldn't go fast with all the moving the room was doing.

He kept his left hand, palm down on the wall all the time, chipping paint off of it and not giving a shit.

_Just get out of here, man, before that psycho gets back._

He stumbled, hit his knee on a box he didn't see in the darkness and the moon was not helping him much; he found himself in a dead angle … the silver light couldn't reach there.

"Son of a bitch…" he whispered to himself. "Son of a bitch."

He had always had sensitive knees … they hurt like a bitch when the weather was showing rain. Hurt like fuckin' hell.

He placed his hand over his knee and tried to massage some relief into it.

Worked sometimes, but not always.

Not always.

-:-

He needed to go on, needed to fucking man up, clench his teeth and move.

The door was right there. Right there … normal, iron door with a small handle that he would just push down and pull towards himself and he'd be free.

Just a few more steps.

His heart was wild in his chest; hitting his ribcage like a butterfly trying to escape its confine.

Freedom.

He could almost taste it, smell it, touch it.

_Yes._

_Fuck._

_Yes._

Just a few more steps, run damn it.

_Run._

"Jensen!"

His heart stopped beating. The pain in his knee hit him full force, but he didn't buckle. He stood his ground, stood high and proud.

But he couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't fuckin' feel the butterfly in his chest anymore.

He felt dead.

Nearly pissed his pants. Nearly threw up.

But he didn't.

He stood proud. Stood on his place, with his eyes on the door, with his eyes fixed on his freedom.

"Jensen, don't even think about it."

Jared's – that's the guy's name, right? – voice was deep, calm, not angry really … just kinda … soft even.

He closed his eyes. He could see freedom behind his closed eyelids. But even if … even if he could open that door, escape this … wherever this was … Jared would just chase after him and catch him too. No way, no way in Hell and beyond was he strong enough to outrun Jared.

But … he had to try. Had to know.

He made one step closer to the door with his eyes closed. Maybe, maybe that way, if Jared would shoot him or something, maybe he wouldn't be able to feel the pain so much.

"Jensen…" there was suppressed anger there, masked with the softness of the man's voice, "… you don't wanna play with me. I'm awesome with knives, man. I don't wanna hurt you…" there was an unspoken _yet_ in there, "but I will throw this knife at you, hitting your spine and you will go down, alright? And you will stay down. You don't want that, do you? Hmm? You don't wanna test me."

 _Fuck yeah I wanna test ya_ , Jensen thought, but didn't move.

If all of this would have been happening to him four years ago, he'd move. He'd make that final step and wait for the hot pain to hit his back. He'd make that last step and be silent when the pain would hit and go down on his knees and hands and wait for Jared to finish him off.

But this wasn't happening four years ago. It was happening now. Now when he was stronger and better. Now when he wanted to live, now when he was craving life.

So he couldn't move. Jared's words and his own desire to live were like glue keeping him in place. Fuckin' glue making him stand there like that … scared shitless. He knew … deep down he knew that if he'd take one more step, if he decided to test Jared, he would go down. Go down for good probably and not just getting himself paralyzed.

_Damn it!_

_What to do! What to fuckin' do?_

Die here or wait for a while to see how Jared would kill him later?

_What to do?_

Maybe … maybe if he takes a step and Jared kills him, maybe, maybe that's his only way out. Or maybe if he stays where he is, maybe later on, he'll have a better chance of escaping.

He could feel cold desert air at his feet, coiling around him, pulling him towards the exit. Freedom.

He made a step forward. He didn't even know he did it, but the whoosh of air next to his ear and a knife handle sticking out from the door, iron door – the fuckin' strength to make that happen, or maybe the door wasn't iron at all - made him stop and his eyes widened.

_Shit._

"Jensen, 'm not kidding here… I have another knife and trust me…" Jared sighed, "That knife… would cut your spinal cord and you'd go down and howl in pain. And then I'd twist it in ya, pulled up and down until you'd just… bleed away."

He wanted to live. Wanted life. And this … this wouldn't give him that.

He watched the door and the knife still embedded in it and swallowed.

He was so screwed.

"Jensen."

He could hear so much in that one word even if it was said as a sigh. _Jensen, don't make me do this. Jensen, come here. Jensen, I will use the knife if you make another step. Jensen, don't fuck with me. Jensen, don't piss me off. Jensen, don't fight me. Don't fight it._

"Jensen…"

The word was closer to him now, was almost breathed down his neck, was almost whispered in his ear… and then he felt that that was actually the case, because one of Jared's arms was sneaking around his waist and the other was god knew where.

He couldn't breathe. Couldn't freakin' move. Just stared at the door and the knife handle mocking him there.

And then he felt it. Something pressing softly to his lower back; between his vertebrae that could probably be seen through his T-shirt that was now soaked with sweat.

"It'd hit ya right here, ya know?"

The words were a breath of noise behind him, and he shivered. He was scared. Couldn't breathe. Think. He pulled his fingers into a fist by his sides, digging his blunt nails into his skin, wanting to feel something other than just the numbing fear.

"Ya gonna kill me? Just do it man, seriously… just…"

He didn't care anymore. Didn't care about living or dying, he just wanted out. Out of here, heaven or hell, he didn't care. Anywhere but away from this fucker.

His head hurt, his stomach hurt, he needed to pee so badly he could taste it in his throat and his mind was fuckin' screwing with him. He didn't know anymore what he wanted. Live, die … it was all the same in the end. But he didn't wanna die like this … tortured, bled to death, beaten, raped, fuck, shit, stop it.

"Please, just kill me…"

He whispered to the door, wanting to grab hold of the knife and shove it into Jared's chest, his heart, make it stop beating so loudly behind his back. He tried to ignore Jared's fingers, yeah he knew it was his fingers and not a knife, that were sliding up and down his spine, a bit too hard for comfort, but he couldn't. He was weak, he was a screw up, he … he hung his head down and breathed, making Jared's fingers go away … that warm pressure on his spine that was actually soothing him … in a very sick kinda way.

"Kill ya? Naw, man, now we're gonna have some fun."

And before he knew it there was a finger on his carotid, right there on that soft spot and his hand shot up without his permission, his fingers tightening around Jared's sweat slicked forearm. He lost the ground beneath his feet, being in that position and his back collided with Jared's chest.

He breathed in and out ... while he still could, knowing exactly what was about to happen. He'd go to the land of darkness again; in space free of pain. For just a little while.

He didn't have the power to struggle ... and then the door, his freedom went away into sweet nothingness with Jared's: "Good." whispered onto the skin of his nape.

_Not good..._

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Jared's POV of CHAPTER 3.

Jensen was gone.

Shit, shit, shit, fuck.

No, no, no! NO!

Okay, okay, breathe in, breathe out and calm the fuck down.

He couldn't have gone far.

Still half drunk, half drugged, he was probably passed out around the corner.

_Little shit…_

Jared smiled.

Oh yeah, he knew, when his eyes first landed on Jensen, that he was gonna be a fighter, a 'take no shit' kinda man.

He grinned.

He could feel the thrill of the hunt start to swell in his gut again, the snake out for blood starting to move in his veins.

Closing his eyes, letting the table where he left Jensen on, fade away from his vision he breathed deeply in.

He opened his eyes and breathed out, calming down the snake, calming himself as much as he could and then put down his heavy gray duffle.

Two knives, he needed two knives.

One long and one skinny, but both sharp. He named his knives the first time he bought them. It was as if they were calling out to him, shining on the shelf in the store like that … and then Miss Darkness said: 'pick 'em up, Jared. They're all yours.'

The guy who sold him the knives was the first who 'got to test them'. It was only fitting, really. The first one to test them to be him. For the first blood that the knives drew to stay in the family. The knives made the man scream and scream and scream ... but in the end ... Jared saw that the knives weren't sharp enough.

Not nearly sharp enough. It wasn't his fault that the man sold him dull knives. Wasn't his fault that cutting the man in pieces hurt twice as much because of that, now was it?

Wasn't his fault at all.

And in the darkness of midnight, while he was cleaning the dried almost black blood from the knives, sitting in his car somewhere where Miss Loneliness said he'd be alone, he named them.

-:-

Mr. Skinny.

Mr. Fat.

Mr. Short.

Mr. Long.

Mr. Skinny was a throwing knife, but he served him as a 'flaying the skin off of someone's bones' knife too.

Mr. Fat had a large blade, thick and made of steel. So light in his hands he sometimes didn't even know he was holding it.

Mr. Short, well he was short. Perfect for cutting shallow lines up and down someone's skin, and then digging in with the perfectly sharp and needle like tip. This was his favorite knife of them all. But he never told his other knives that. Oh, no … they have to work as a family and favoritism was not allowed.

Mr. Long's really long and silver and shining so brightly in every light he put it at. And the blood running down that long, cold blade … just imagining that now, made Jared whimper.

He loved his knives.

They were his family.

-:-

He tucked Mr. Long into the knife holster he always carried strapped to his ankle. Old habit really and Mr. Long was just long enough to still make it work.

He carefully touched Mr. Skinny's cutting edge, finding it sharp as it should be and whispered to it: "We're going on a hunt."

It didn't whisper anything back, just sparkled in the moonlight.

-:-

He stepped outside the office and turned left down the corridor.

He knew where Jensen went, and right wasn't it.

As soon as he stepped into the enormous hall, he saw his pray.

Saw the man bending over and cursing while massaging his knee.

He waited. He watched. He saw Jensen move and he moved with him. In the shadows that the dead angles provided, no light, just darkness.

And then…

"Jensen!"

He wasn't angry, wasn't really anything, but excited about this. Yes, it was way too easy to catch up with Jensen, it was way too easy to track him down – maybe he could teach Jensen later how to really hide, run and duck – but man, the excitement he could feel in his belly was worth Jensen's awkward escape.

The man didn't move, it was like he was glued to the spot. But Jared knew … he knew what the man was thinking. Two more steps and there's freedom. Yeah … well, there would be no freedom for Jensen. Ever, but especially not now.

"Jensen, don't even think about it."

-:-

There was no sound in the hall, no sound at all. Just Jensen's breaths coming out so fast and so loud into the room that they made Jared's head spin for a little. He wanted to feel those breaths on his neck while Mr. Short would be busy doing its job.

And then Jensen made a step forward. Tiny step that didn't really bring him anywhere, not really.

"Jensen…" he could barely contain his anger now, barely contain that fucking snake, "… you don't wanna play with me. I'm awesome with knives, man. I don't wanna hurt you…" _yet_ , "but I will throw this knife at you, hitting your spine and you will go down, alright? And you will stay down. You don't want that, do you? Hmm? You don't wanna test me."

Please test me. Do it, I dare you. I dare you, gimme something. Gimme a fight, goddamnit. Gimme something, man. Gimme some thrill. Do it. Fuckin' do it. See your limits, see mine. Come on. Man up. Do it.

Jensen did. One step forward.

_That's my boy. That's my boy._

He was ecstatic. He'd be jumping up and down from joy over this, but instead he threw Mr. Skinny right pass Jensen's temple to the wooden door.

Mr. Skinny stayed there, because in the family, that was his job.

Mr. Long, though … Mr. Long was calling for him to use him.

But he wasn't going to. Sometimes … sometimes words cut deeper and sharper than knives did.

He lowered his voice, made it deep and soft … sometimes that worked better than anger and sharpness.

"Jensen, 'm not kidding here… I have another knife and trust me…" he sighed, "That knife… would cut your spinal cord and you'd go down and howl in pain. And then I'd twist it in ya, pulled up and down until you'd just… bleed away."

The man didn't move. Didn't turn around. Foolish move, he thought, showing him his back even after he said all that.

Maybe later he would show Jensen not to show him his back ever again.

Maybe he'd use Mr. Short for that lesson. It was his favorite knife after all.

"Jensen."

Jared's patience was starting to wear thin, the snake demanding he do something about this, the anticipation could go only so far and then you have to act and … it was fun, this game, oh so fun, but seriously, when would Jensen see there was no way out of this. No way of escaping, no freedom. No life, only blood and pain.

He sighed and walked towards the man, who's back was straight, his shoulders up, his head raised up high, his eyes probably fixed on the door, his freedom that he'd never get.

One step. Two steps, three steps, four steps and he was close enough to touch, close enough to breathe: "Jensen…" to the man's nape, watching how the short blond hair there was soaked with sweat … the smell invading his senses was so powerful he had to close his eyes for a second, just … to breathe in and out.

He sneaked a hand around the man's waist, pinning him in place.

And then he looked at the guy's back, the T-shirt wet with sweat and how his shoulder blades were moving beneath that thin fabric.

He had to touch.

Had to place his fingers there, on the man's spine, just … just to feel where the knife would have gone in, if he'd really had thrown it.

"It'd hit ya right here, ya know?"

Jensen's skin was so hot, Jared could feel it through the tee, warming up his fingertips.

He pushed a bit at the space between two vertebrae, indicating just where exactly the knife would go in and put Jensen to his knees.

"Ya gonna kill me? Just do it man, seriously… just…"

The words surprised him. Kill him? Kill him? Oh fuck no, this was just way too much fun and that snake in his veins would just have to shut its fucking mouth, because seriously … this was fun. Toying with this man … so much fun.

"Please, just kill me…"

Before he could answer the first plea, the second one came.

He slid his fingers up and down a bit, wanting to feel that body - alive, breathing and talking and thinking body underneath his fingertips - a little longer.

He could feel shudders travel up and down Jensen's back, fear probably. Yessss, fear. He could smell it on Jensen's skin, coming off of it in waves.

"Kill ya? Naw, man, now we're gonna have some fun."

He placed his thumb to Jensen's carotid and almost forgot how to breathe; knowing exactly that there was blood flowing so freely underneath his finger. He smiled when Jensen's sweaty palm shot up to grab hold of his forearm and shivered when the man lost his footing a little, leaning back into his chest.

The man was either too shocked or too out of it to do anything more than that; turn around and punch him in the face or something.

He put some pressure on his thumb, not too much, not too little, but just enough. Just enough for Jensen to breathe out more loudly in realization of what was about to happen.

And then he put more pressure there.

Enough pressure.

"Good." He whispered when Jensen became a dead weight in his arms.

He wouldn't let him fall.

  
TBC ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was Jared's POV of CHAPTER 3.


	5. Chapter 5

Getting Jensen back to the room he escaped from earlier was easy enough … Jared dropped the guy in a fireman carry over his shoulders and walked down the quiet hallways of the warehouse to the room.

"Gonna be all nice a cozy on the table here, man." he said quietly, not wanting Jensen awake just yet, not wanting the man to move in any way just yet. Not yet. Not yet.

Just gimme five more minutes, man. Five more. Gotta get ya all settled before you can wake up. Okay? Okay.

He lowered the man to the table again, just like he did before, mindful of the guy's arms, legs, being extra careful with his head; don't want no bumps there, no bumps.

He rose up from his hunched position over the unmoving man and placed his arms across his chest.

Just watching. Just seeing. Just uh, lusting to smell that iron smell of blood; to see the red color of it spilling over all that smooth skin.

He breathed in; smelling the guy's sweat, smelling the gasoline and rust that seemed to be everywhere in this warehouse. But that was okay. The smell of blood would override all that soon … it was more powerful than the rust and the gasoline, more powerful than anything.

-:-

Jensen's head was turned towards Jared; left cheek bathing in the silver moonlight coming from the windows, eyes moving rapidly underneath the thin eyelids; lips parted in drawing in oh so needed air, hair drenched in sweat, looking black with patches of grayness where the moon shone on them through the bars on the windows.

There was no one else there. Just him and Jensen. No one else. Not for miles around them. No one. All alone.

Jared's heart started to beat a little faster with that thought. That he had Jensen all to himself, with no one there to come, distract, help, interrupt. No one.

No one.

Alone.

All alone.

Just them.

All alone in a dusty room in a forgotten warehouse in the middle of a hot summer night. Desert all around them.

No one to hear the screams.

No one to see.

Just them.

Alone.

Jared's knees felt weak all of a sudden.

-:-

He turned on the light; a big light bulb that he fixed – to shine right above the table - before he even went to hunt for his next victim.

It illuminated the table, but left the rest of the room in total darkness. It was a shame really that Jensen woke up like he did and got to see where he was … a damn shame.

Jared sighed. That element of surprise was gone. Oh well … there were still plenty of other tricks he had in his bag.

He pulled some rope out of his duffel; thin, white rope. It was brand new; he never used the same rope twice. Never. Everyone deserved her or his blood to be soaked up by brand new, never before used rope.

He twisted the rope between his fingers, stretched it out and tested how strong it was … pretty darn strong.

He was awesome at tying ropes, doing knots. And the white rope would look amazing when soaked up with Jensen's blood. It would look so beautiful, how the fibers would just swallow up all that bright redness.

-:-

Jensen hadn't stirred any, giving Jared his five more minutes. His eyes were constantly moving underneath his eyelids and when Jared was tying up Jensen's left arm to the table, a little whimper came from those parted lips.

Jared stopped tying the knot, stopped pulling on the rope, stopped everything and looked up to see the underside of Jensen's chin.

He rose up from his kneeling position by Jensen's hip, holding the man's rope covered wrist in his hand and whispered: "Jensen?"

Nothing.

Silence.

He shifted closer to look closer; his nose nearly touching Jensen's left cheek and grabbed the man by his chin to rotate his head towards him.

"Jensen?"

Nothing.

Silence.

Just eyes moving.

He looked for a little while longer, just to make sure.

Nothing.

And then he finished the knot, sliding his hand up and down Jensen's forearm, tracing the veins with his fingertip.

"Gonna cut right here, man," he murmured to himself when tracing the tip of his index finger over the vein in Jensen's wrist, "right here."

Okay, stop it, stop it. Wait. Wait. Wait.

Tie his legs.

His legs and then wait.

He turned around and walked down to the end of the table, twisting the thin rope between his hands.

Jensen's white socks weren't white anymore, not from all the dirt they collected when the man was going through his 'escape' fiasco.

Jared clicked his tongue.

"Really gonna have to teach ya how to escape, man. How to run, 'cause that was just pathetic."

He said underneath his breath while pushing up the bottom of Jensen's jeans to get to the start of the guy's socks.

He pulled them down and threw them into a dark corner of the room.

Jensen wouldn't need them anyway.

Tying the man's feet to the table, checking every knot, every line of the rope ... yeah, it was all alright. All okay.

He sat down on a chair he found in the office, leaned back, crossed his hands over his chest and watched the man sleep.

Now.

Now all he could do was wait.

-:-

It was nothing in particular that woke him up; no noise or anything, no smell, no light, there was nothing for just a nanosecond. Nothing existed for that one little split of a second.

And then he opened his eyes and everything came crashing onto him like he was hit by a fuckin' train.

He gasped for air like a fish on land, his stomach hurting so, so, so omyfreakingod bad, his head was pounding, his neck hurt, his ohmyfuckingod bladder hurt like hell, his arms were … his legs were … they were gone.

He panicked.

Did the man cut off his legs? Did he … did he stab him?

He couldn't feel his arms and legs, couldn't tell his brain to movemyfuckingarms … he couldn't … there was nothing … and he needed to throw up.

Throw up.

Throw up.

No, no, no … swallow down, swallow down … uh…

There was bright light above his head, hurting his eyes, so bright, so fuckin' bright burning his eyes, making him close them ... his neck hurt, he couldn't swallow, his head, God his head, his stomach, he needed to piss.

Piss.

Piss.

Fuuuck.

He was panicking. He was … there was no air. He had no arms, no legs, he'd suffocate if he throws up, he'd die, he'd die.

He was dead.

Fuck, he was dead. The guy killed him and this … this … this was what? Hell? Heaven? Purgatory? What?

He needed to throw up. No, no, no, he'd suffocate if he did, he couldn't move … no arms, no legs, he needed to piss. Oh, so fucking much.

He groaned and closed his eyes.

Wanna die.

Wanna live.

Help.

-:-

"Jensen?"

He opened his eyes so fast that the flash of light into his pupils made him scream out: "Fuck!" and close his eyes again.

He was blind.

He fuckin' just blinded himself.

Awesome. AWESOME!

How much more can you suck?

"Jensen, come on. Open your eyes."

No.

"Jeeeenseeeen, cooome o-on." Jared sing-songed.

No fuckin' way.

"Jensen, I'll fuckin' tape your eyelids open, don't play with me."

No. No, no, no.

Darkness fell across his closed eyelids where red light was before.

"Open them."

The words were spoken calmly, no anger in them at all, but the voice held no 'no' for an answer. If he'd say no … Jared would force his eyes open that was for sure.

He opened his eyes, just a tiny bit. Just so much that he could see that there was no light coming into his eyes.

He opened them a bit more.

"'s it. Come on."

Jared's voice was starting to irritate him. All calm and soothing and feeling like it was shooting fuckin' tranquilizer up his mind.

Goddamnit.

He opened his sensitive eyes completely and saw Jared's huge palm hovering over them, hiding them from the bright light.

"Well then … that wasn't so hard, huh?"

Jensen moved his tongue, gathering up some saliva and licking his dry lips: "Fuck you, asshole."

Jared removed his hand and the harsh light once again burned Jensen's eyes.

He closed them, but not before feeling the light almost scorching his eyes.

"No need for name calling, you dipshit."

He wanted to cover up his eyes so bad, put his arm over them and lay in darkness for awhile, just a little while.

But he couldn't feel his hands, his legs … he could definitely feel his head hurting and his stomach rolling and fuck he needed to piss.

God.

"Now, man. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, okay? Your choice. Are ya gonna keep those eyes open or do I need to get the duct tape?"

Jensen opened his eyes again, once he saw that Jared put his hand over them again.

As much as he wanted to hurt this man … no, not hurt him, just … just … he was just after blood. Nothing more. Everything else was … just … bleh.

He just wanted to slice and carve and make Jensen's skin, his whole body actually … like … like … what a canvas was for an artist.

Yeah … just like that.

"'m gonna remove my hand away, real slow, alright?"

And he did. Very slowly he started to widen his fingers, let some tiny streams of light come to Jensen's eyes before he completely removed his hand and saw Jensen's bright green eyes staring up at him.

"Okay now … okay. See? That wasn't so bad, now was it? Your eyes will adjust just fine, alright?"

Jensen nodded.

He nodded. What the hell was wrong with him? Now he was gonna start to agree with this psycho?

Fuck.

The light was still bright, making his eyes water for a minute, making him blink and blink and blink until his eyes started to hurt from it, but he was starting to adjust. Just like Jared said.

God. Fuck. Shit. He was so screwed.

-:-

"What did you do with my arms?"

He rasped out and blinked, looking up at Jared's face that was hovering above his now, hiding the light again.

"My arms? Just tell me…"

He needed to know. He needed ... before anything else. He just wanted to know.

"Tied them to the table, 's all."

"I can't … feel them."

"Yeah, you can…"

Jared smiled.

Fear could be paralyzing when done right.

"I can't…"

"You feel this?"

Jensen screamed.

-:-

"You felt that, huh? See, your arms are just fine."

He was twisting the skin at Jensen's inner elbow between his thumb and index finger, feeling oh God, he could swear that if he'd just reach deeper he could've grabbed that vein there and twist it between his fingers too. But that would be too much, too much too soon.

Calm down. Calm down. Patience. Patience. Jensen was too valuable to loose it like that; to just go charging in and start carving and cutting … no, no, no … slow and easy. Slow and easy was the way with this man.

"Stoooop!"

Jensen's scream was loud and clear in his ears and he stopped pinching the skin; when done right, it could hurt like hell, Jared discovered long ago.

Man, what had been that kid's name? Luke, yeah. Luke. Hah, man he pinched and twisted the skin at Luke's inner elbow so hard, he ripped the skin off. Oh man, that kid could scream. Screamed his lungs out before he passed out.

Good times.

"See? Your arms are just fine. Come on, get up..." he came closer to Jensen, one little step…

"What are you doing? Don't touch me… don't…"

"Relax, just gonna make you see that your arms and legs are still there."

…and pushed the man's head up a bit so that he could see that his arms and legs were still attached. He could've done that sooner, of course, but … fear was awesome … fear smelled so good … and feeling Jensen's sweaty hair ... soooo good.

"Try to move your fingers."

Jensen concentrated on his fingers … move, move, move you fucker's, I can see you there, just move, move, move … and they did.

"And your legs are still okay too. I didn't do nothing to ya. Just need to chill dude and you'll feel everything, okay?"

He wouldn't do anything to Jensen. Not without the man being fully conscious and fully there and with Jared and knowing what was being done to him. He wanted Jensen to see how beautiful his blood looked like on his skin and not just underneath it. Wanted Jensen to feel how amazing it could be when there was art being performed on your body … using blood as paint, using fingers as a brush.

Art.

Besides … torture ain't his thing; there was no pleasure to be found in burning or crushing or depriving someone of something or beating the shit out of someone … no … he was strictly in this for the blood.

That hot liquid that knew how to spill out of cuts and wounds just right … always hitting just the right angle to pour down smooth skin, thin skin, white skin, black skin, brown skin…

Jared breathed.

Calm down, calm down.

Calm down.

"Right."

Jensen whispered when Jared lowered his head back to the table and walked back to his side.

"What was that?"

"Right… you didn't do nothing to me. Just… kidnapped me, drugged me, and did some mojo on my neck. Yeah… nothing at all."

He looked back up from Jensen's fingers that were discovering mobility to the man's face starring down at his fingers like he never saw them before. Jensen's eyes were open wide, still a bit teary from the harshness of the light, there was a drop of sweat right above his upper lip…

"I didn't hurt ya."

He whispered.

"Yet."

"Yet." Jared agreed.

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

Yet. Of course there had to be a 'yet' there. There was always a 'yet' or a 'but' hidden in everything.

Yet.

Yet.

Yet.

So… eventually.

Soon probably.

By the look in the man's eyes… very, very soon.

Jensen started to scream.

"Heeeeeelp!"

Breathe in.

"Heeeeelllllp!"

Breathe in.

"Heeeelp!"

His screams just kept on coming back to him.

"What the hell are you doin', man?"

"Heeeeelp!"

He needed this … to yell, to scream, to do something and not just lay there like a sack of potatoes and losing hope in ever getting out of there. Alive.

"Dude, stop, you're making my ears hurt." Jared mocked.

"Heeeelp! Heeeeellllp! Heeelp!"

There was a sweaty palm over his mouth suddenly; shutting him up with how hard it was pressing his teeth to his lips, or his lips to his teeth … no matter, however you look at it, it hurt. And then eyes appeared above his … calm eyes, so coldly calm … he wanted to reach up and claw them out.

"Seriously, shut up, or 'm gonna tape your mouth shut! And I don't wanna do that, coz I wanna hear you scream and beg … but this, what you're doin' … you're just gonna tire yourself out before we even get to the good stuff, man. So shut. the. fuck. up."

Jared's palm was sweaty; Jensen got a lick at it, before he clamed his mouth shut. And it was warm and it was alive and it was touching him and the words coming out of Jared's mouth stopped him.

No, he didn't wanna have his mouth taped shut. No, he didn't wanna lose the ability to scream. Screaming was good. Screaming would either save him or lessen the pain.

So no.

"'m gonna let go now, alright? And you'll just stay quiet, yeah?"

There was some hair in Jared's eyes – a loose bang that couldn't stay in place when Jared was leaning down - but Jensen could still see them kinda … sparkle in the bright light. T'was like there were all these small bright white sparks in Jared's eyes.

The palm was gone with the same speed as it appeared earlier, making Jensen hiss when his teeth detached themselves from his lips.

He hit his head on the table as if saying 'I'll be quiet, but I don't like it.'

Really… it was the only way he had to defy Jared.

Then, there was only their breathing that could be heard. Only that. Jensen's shallow, quick breaths and Jared's calm, deep ones.

Jensen licked his lips, the salty taste of Jared's palm still lingering there. He wanted to spit it out, but really … the spit would probably just land on him.

Because he just sucked like that.

-:-

There was nothing for a while … the nothingness actually making him feel safe.

Jared was doing something on the floor, some _clangs_ and _clings_ could be heard, but he couldn't really see anything. He couldn't move his head, couldn't move anything.

He just hoped that whatever Jared was doing down on the floor … would not spring up and kill him … like Jack in the Box kinda thing.

Because that … that would give him a heart attack for sure.

So he lay there, trying to ignore every little pain in his body … there was a lot of pain … no, no, it was discomfort. Because pain … he probably didn't know real pain yet.

Yet.

He smiled. Yet.

Yet.

Man, would that word haunt him forever?

Discomfort. There was a lot of discomfort there.

He couldn't move his head all that much and he really didn't even want to … the pain in there was making him wanna vomit.

He hit his head on the table again in frustration which was NOT a good thing. He groaned when he could see sparks appear in front of his open eyes.

Discomfort was really, really starting to border on pain.

Jared's mop of brown hair appeared suddenly, distracting him from thinking about his discomforts and with Jared came a knife that he held securely in his right hand.

Jensen's heart stopped.

-:-

"What? No, man, don't, please, don't, no, come on…"

He closed his eyes and gripped the side of the table again, digging his blunt fingernails into the soft underside of the table, expecting the worse, but all he could feel was something cold pressing up his chest.

He blinked his eyes open.

"What are you...?"

"'m gonna cut off your shirt, man. Can't paint you with your shirt on, now can I?" he rolled his eyes cringing a little when he heard Jensen hit his head on the table again.

He really was gonna have to do something about that soon, otherwise Jensen would suffer brain damage, before they'd even get started.

-:-

He dragged the knife from the bottom of Jensen's T-shirt up, up, up the middle of it, being really careful not to touch skin with the tip of the knife.

Coming to the neck, the T-shirt fell open, revealing skin so amazing to paint on, Jared had to close his eyes, breathe in and fuckingignoreit.

He opened his eyes and cut both sleeves, so that he could pull: "Lift up your back a little.." the cut t-shirt away from the man's body.

Jensen was … just … not really comprehending things really well anymore and before he could ask anything, Jared was already gone again under the table.

"Fuck…" was all he could whisper to the bright light hanging over his stomach, "Fuck…"

And then Jared's mop of brown hair reappeared and with him a thin, wide black belt in his hands.

Jensen's eyes widened to the size of saucers.

Jared said nothing, just placed the belt over Jensen's chest; a little bit above his belly button, leaned over him and snapped something in place on the other end.

"It's just to keep you in place. We don't want you hurtin' yourself."

Jensen wanted to laugh at that.

We don't want you to hurt yourself?

Who's we?

Who the hell is 'we'?

Jared was sick, demented, insane. Psycho.

Jensen knew that now. If there was any doubt before, now he knew for sure.

He wanted to cry; it was a quick flash of a thought. Cry. But then testosterone with a bucket full of adrenaline kicked in and he started to laugh.

Laugh out loud.

"Funny?"

"Fuckin' hilarious."

He stopped laughing.

There was silence after that with Jared _cling_ -ing and _clang_ -ing again below the table.

-:-

He felt like he was on display lying like this on the hard table that was slowly starting to burn his back with how much his body heat was warming it up.

On fuckin' display with Jared's eyes looking right at him; those eyes shining with want … with freakin' lust for crying out loud.

Lust for blood, lust for painting him with…

_Fuck…_

He shuddered. Full body, limb to limb, finger to toe shudder that made him feel his full bladder again and making his headache even worse.

Piss.

Throw up.

Headache.

In that order.

He tried to twist his body, tried to somehow get away, maybe just a little, just … so much that he wouldn't be so close. So close to the man standing there by the side of the table, so close to those freakin' dark eyes, so close to being touched, carved, sliced, cut and bled.

So close.

But it was in vain; his legs and arms were tied tight, the belt over his chest was keeping him in place too ... he couldn't get away from that intense stare, couldn't get away from the man's voice telling him all those things, all that … just ... making him know that yeah, there would be pain, but when … well, that was yet to be discovered.

Fuckin' hell.

-:-

Jared was standing there, hands crossed over his chest, his black t-shirt itching from all the sweat it soaked up through the day; the need, the snake in his veins, the snake that was out for blood moving underneath his skin was starting to scream at him again and he knew that he wouldn't be able to resist it for long. Not for long. Not with Jensen like this; all that smooth fuckin' skin on display like this. He could already see where he'd cut, where he'd push the knife deep and where he'd just do shallow cuts.

Shut up, shut up, shut up…

The snake won't shut up… not until he satisfied her.

He was just thinking about which knife to use - his favorite, or maybe he could give the other kids a chance to play; Mr. Fat hadn't had fun in a while and who was he, to deny him some fun – when he noticed fear in the guy's eyes … fear and something else.

Fear was always present in Jensen's eyes, always there … eyes open wide, always on alert, always waiting to see what would happen next, always looking at his surroundings, wanting to see where the attack would come from. That fear was good, that fear would maybe help him stay alive, because fear … fear smelled so good and it was addictive and Jared needed that. Needed that smell to feed the snake for just a little while longer.

But there was something else shining in Jensen's eyes right now too. Something … Jensen's brows … was that pain?

Was the guy hurtin'?

Jared went through everything he had already done to Jensen…

Drugged him … check. But he experimented with the drug, and it was okay. Wel l… it was okay now.

He didn't drop the guy, didn't drag him, didn't hit his head, didn't … noup nothing like that. And he didn't cut him yet, he was careful, so … that wasn't that.

He did put some strain on the guy's brain, but he's good at what he did … and he did it right, so …

"You okay?"

He startled Jensen…

Why?

He didn't yell, he just … said.

"Why do you care, man? You're gonna fuckin' kill me anyway and you wanna know if I'm okay? What the hell…?"

Jared was in his face, nose touching nose so fast, Jensen forgot how to breathe and that just made his head hurt more.

That was it. That was … it.

"Listen to me. You're mine, you're here. You're alone. There's no one here, you asshole, but you," he pushed his finger right into Jensen's chest, missing his right nipple by a hair "and me." he pointed to his chest.

"You're mine and mine alone. Alone, do you get it?" he paused, breathed in, breathed out, "No one will come to save you, no one even knows you're here, no one. I'll make you bleed and bleed and bleed until I'll bleed your name out of your memory, got me? I'll cut you in ways you can't even imagine, you'll discover muscles and nerves you never even knew you had, ya get me?" he paused, wanting his words to get right into Jensen's brain, "I'll make you scream and beg and beg and scream until you'll be bleeding out of your mouth just 'cause of that. Do you understand? You are here alone. You and me. I'm not here to torture you, I ain't gonna kill ya like that, 'm not gonna do nothing more than just make you bleed."

Jared's breath was in his nose and in his mouth and it smelled … like candy, like gummy bears. It was sweet and it was there and it was alive and it wasn't alone and it was … memory of his little sis eating gummy bears and stuffing her mouth with them at some pool party and offering them to him and how they felt slimy in his hand and …

… he was alone here. Without his sister, without his parents, friends. There was no one here but Jared. No one would come save him. No one would know…

He cleared his throat and breathed out: "How's that not torture?"

"'s not." he paused, "'s an art."

Jensen closed his eyes. He'd pinch the bridge of his nose if he could.

"'s art, Jensen, coz I can make you bleed and not kill ya doing it. 's art, coz I can paint you in blood and you'll not feel a thing. 's art, 'cause 's me doing it."

Jensen wanted to ask 'why are you so special', but he bit his tongue. Rather not piss the man off right now.

Piss.

Ohmyfuckinggod he needed to piss.

He could feel it in his throat and his chest and stomach were actually starting to hurt from clenching his muscles so tight.

"Now, are ya gonna be nice to me or will I really have to do this the hard way?"

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you…" he hissed and flinched.

Fuck, but he needed to piss.

"Jensen, tell me!"

He gripped the end of the table, squeezed it hard, knuckles going white and breathed out. In and out, in and out, shallowly, really shallow … no need to disturb anything down there more than it was already disturbed … ignoring the way Jared's eyes were searching his own for a clue as to what was going on.

"What's wrong?"

"Fuck you…"

He hissed again.

His bladder was about to explode. But he couldn't ... couldn't piss his pants, couldn't piss with this man looking at him so … intently, so … in his face … it was making him squirm, it was just awkward.

Awkward? Fuck.

The man would bleed him to death and he felt awkward about pissing himself?

"Tell me, Jensen!"

He wriggled on the table and saw Jared look down then put his left hand near his shoulder - leaning on his hand - pressing his thumb on the middle of Jensen's shoulder, pressing the digit in and then looking back up to Jensen's eyes.

He saw Jared smirk.

"You can go, ya know? The table is leaned to the side a bit, and," he uncurled one of Jensen's fingers: "Come on, gimme your finger," and extended it to its limit, "feel that? 's one of many channels I carved into the table, so that the blood could just ... flow down to the floor. There's a bucket there too, gonna catch everything. No need to worry."

"No need to worry?"

"Well, you know what I mean."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He ain't gonna piss himself, no matter no channels and leaning tables and shit.

"Naw, 's 'kay… I'll just…"

"Man, I can see your stomach's gonna burst. And you drank like three beers or something … I know you gotta go."

"What do you care? What the fuck do you care?"

Testing him again? Awesome, just proved that picking Jensen was the most brilliant thing he ever did.

"Well, if your bladder explodes, you'll die probably… some really gross and painful death, and I know you don't want that. And besides, I'll have to go out to get someone else, and I really, really don't wanna do that, man."

Jensen whimpered.

He hurt.

He was gonna throw up.

He was gonna…

He wasn't gonna do nothing, because apparently Jared would.

-:-

Jensen raised his head from the table a little, his neck muscles aching already and saw Jared sneak his hand inside his jeans, underneath his boxers.

"Don't… don't ... what … don't do this, please."

He started begging, not knowing that begging made the snake in Jared's veins start moving faster.

-:-

Jensen's lower belly was taut, raised up like a baloon or something was stuck underneath it, his skin hot and sweaty, rising up with each quick 'n' shallow breath he did.

"What are you … fuck, don't touch me, don't … please, don't … Jared don't, don't…"

Jensen was whimpering and writhing underneath his palm, but really … if the man's bladder exploded, he wouldn't be cleaning up that mess and going out to find someone else … Jensen was perfect in so many ways … there was no way he'd ever find someone like him.

He dug his finger into Jensen's shoulder a little more, trying to keep him still.

He felt Jensen's bladder under his palm; it felt like he was touching a lemon or something covered with smooth, sweaty, warm skin.

Jensen's eyes were watering, his head pushing itself into the table when he tried to shift his body away from Jared's palm … there … right there … over his bladder … putting pressure on it … pressure bordering on pain, but not quite there yet.

He yelped and groaned when Jared pressed down with the heel of his palm …down, down, down.

"Stooop… stop." he gasped, fighting to get some air into his lungs.

He couldn't catch his breath, not with how it felt as if his piss was in his throat … until the pressure was just too much to handle, too painful and the smell of urine drifted into the air.

"Better, huh?"

Jensen's eyes were closed but relief was visible on his face, in ever muscle his body possessed.

"Yeah, better, right?"

Jensen was … he wanted to go and hide somewhere, where no one would find him, where Jared didn't exist, where his pants weren't wet, where there was no sound of his own piss hitting an empty bucket, where life … where life was kinder to him than this.

Somewhere … where he was dead already.  
  
And then Jared removed his hand and wiped it in Jensen's jeans where they were dry; way down at the calves.   
  
"Better, right?"  
  
"Go to hell." he whispered and turned his head away to wallow in his misery for as long as Jared would let him.  
  
Which wasn't long, because after a second or so, just as he was beginning to catch his breath again he started to feel Jared's hand underneath his head.  
  
 _Now what?_  
 

**TBC…**


	7. Chapter 7

"Your head okay?"

Jensen was mortified, simply mortified. Pissing his fuckin' pants? Fuck. What was he … five?

Even the 'I was forced to do it by a fuckin' psycho' wasn't making him feel any better about the whole thing.

His pants were wet. Wet. Wet all the way down his thighs and his ass and he could swear that his lower back was drowning in his piss too and fuck, but he could still hear some tiny drops fall into the bucket.

Plop.

Plop.

Plop.

And the smell in the room was just … disgusting; urine and heat and rust and dust and gasoline … but it was fading fast into the vast space, thank God.

"I asked you something."

But seriously, pissing himself? He could feel heat starting to spread up his chest, neck and taking a permanent home on his cheeks. Embarrassing.

It was embarrassing. Worse than embarrassing. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him up, but he knew that was just wishful thinking.

"Jensen."

His dick felt like someone pulled a rope out of it and all he wanted to do was reach down and scratch it.

But yeah … he was a little tied up at the moment.

He was just happy that his head stopped hurting and the need to throw up vanished into thin air, because this … what just happened, with Jared's hand _fuckingthere_ … touching him _there_ in all places … he wanted to die.

He was practically naked, his pants wet from his own piss, his cheeks burning red from the utter humiliation, his legs and arms tied to the table and with the psycho touching the back of his head.

Touching.

Psycho.

His head.

He turned his head back toward Jared, dragging the short hair at his nape across Jared's palm and shuddered when he met the man's eyes. So intense. So fucking intense it made his chest hurt.

And the guy's lips were moving, forming words that he couldn't understand. Speaking something…

There was a rush of blood in his ears; he could hear it like one could hear a waterfall and he couldn't hear what was coming out of the man's mouth … there was just this _whoooosssshhhhh_ sound in his ears and no other noise could penetrate that.

Lips moving.

Hand squeezing hair at his nape.

Focus.

Focus.

"Jensen?"

He breathed and blinked. Couldn't form words. Couldn't … he wanted to hide.

"How's your head?"

He licked his lips and whispered: "What do you care?" trying so hard to hide how much Jared had affected him. How he humiliated him. How he made him feel embarrassed beyond belief.

Show no weakness. Weakness could be exploited in the darkest of ways.

Show no weakness.

Suck it up.

Suck. it. up.

Then Jared's hand was gone and his head smashed into the table again. It hurt, but … his pride hurt more.

-:-

Then … then it was just him. Jared was gone from his sight. Gone under the table again and that never meant anything good. Every time Jared disappeared under the table, he came back up with something and bad shit happened.

Jensen was fidgeting on the table, his jeans soaking wet but thank you Lord that the smell was not so strong anymore otherwise the desire to throw up would come back.

And seriously … that would be the last drop. If he had to throw up with the psycho in the room.

He rather swallowed the bile down or choked on it.

It was hot in the room, which made the drying of his jeans a bit faster, but man, he itched. Itched in places he couldn't scratch and it was driving him crazy. He moved his ass some, getting rid of the itch there, but he couldn't do anything more than that.

And then Jared appeared.

With a shiny, silver knife. Thin and long.

_Fuck…_

-:-

"What're you…"

Jensen raised his head up as much as he could what with being tied down like he was and his eyes widened when he saw Jared start to run the knife up his pants, starting with the left side.

"You're probably uncomfortable and itching so…"

That was his explanation?

Jensen hit his head on the table. Hard. Possibly trying to knock himself unconscious but not really succeeding, because knocking himself out? Would probably be the worst thing he could possibly do.

Then he would be powerless. Helpless.

Oh wait.

He was that already.

_Shit…_

-:-

His pants were cut. His favorite jeans cut into pieces just like that.

"Lift your hips a bit."

He did. What was the point in arguing? Jared would get his way eventually.

"Alrighty then."

Jared said and dropped the torn jeans on the floor.

Jensen just sighed. It did feel kinda nice to have the wet jeans off; they were starting to stick to his skin and itch and get cold and dry and ew.

What the fuck was he thinking? Nice? He was naked. Okay, he still had his boxers on and if Jared took those off, Jensen would … well, he didn't know exactly what he'd do, but he'd do something.

Yeah…

He'd do something…

-:-

"Now let's do something about your head, man. Seriously, you banging it on the table like that will leave some damage and I don't want that."

Jensen was confused; the man cared about his well-being and yet wanted to cut him and bleed him and all kinds of other messed up things.

Maybe it was for the best if he tried to stop understanding Jared. You couldn't exactly understand a mad man. They thought … differently and trying to understand their thought process could just make your head explode.

-:-

The light was so bright in his eyes, but he was getting used to it now and he suspected that Jared turned it down a little … it was bright, but not so bright that it would make him feel like his eyes were burning.

And there was still night outside. He couldn't tell the time, but if he'd have to guess, he'd say that morning was just around the corner.

He looked up at Jared, who was standing there, with his left arm across his chest supporting his right one and running his index finger over his bottom lip.

He was thinking.

Oh fuck … thinking never brought anything good either. What if he was thinking up ways to chop off his head? Or cut it off? Slow and painful and uh … shit.

But then he saw Jared grab hold of the bottom of his black T-shirt and pull it up over his head and folding it neatly.

"'m gonna put this behind your head, maybe it'll help. At least it'll be softer."

And as he did that, leaning over Jensen's eyes, his muscles tensing and relaxing … Jensen saw.

He saw something … right there … near Jared's heart. In the middle of the guy's chest.

Did he have the guts to ask? Maybe that'd distract the guy … make him not hurt him for just a little while longer.

Yes.

Good thinking.

"What's that?" he nodded towards Jared's chest.

Jared looked at him. Fuck, but those eyes.

"What?"

"Umm, that … on your chest. There."

-:-

"This," Jared ran his finger softly over the scar and smiled, "I got shot here."

Huh?

"Shot?"

Jared could see where this was going. Distraction, huh Jensen? Ain't gonna work.

Not with me.

"Shot, ya know … with a gun?"

Jared watched that freckled face going from confused to angry.

"I know what shot means."

Jared snorted. Jensen might know what it meant, but he didn't know what it _meant_. The pain, the shock, the burning, the body falling down on the floor and the mind going into darkness.

Jensen didn't know.

-:-

Jared watched Jensen.

The man was sweating so much it seemed like there was rain falling right on top of him … his sweat reeked of fear and the snake in Jared was not gonna be stopped now.

This … this was it.

Even if he wanted to stop her … he wouldn't be able to. The snake would just jump out of his veins and attack and leave Jensen in a bloody mess.

Damn it, damn it, damn it … but Jensen didn't deserve that.

He deserved better. To be treated better. To be painted with care.

The man in his boxers with freckled skin shining with sweat, little tremors running up and down his body, chest rising up and down in shallow, quick breaths, veins standing out on his neck … green eyes and spiky hair … he deserved better.

"Do you know what anosmia is?" Jared asked.

Anosmia? What? 's that like torture? 's that what Jared would do to him? What? No, no… no!

"Fuck no, no.." he started to shake his head, moving his arms and legs, trying to get away … even if he knew it was pointless … sometimes, you just have to try.

"Hey, calm down's not like a way of torture or something, man. Well in a way it is, but ... not really. So just relax, okay?"

Jensen was quiet.

"We can do 20 questions or somethin'..."

Was the man mocking him? Fuuuck … he'd be tortured and the man was mocking him? What the … screw him, screw him…

He could't do this anymore … the kindness and then rudeness and it was like Jared couldn't decide what he wanted. Kind, rude, psycho, calm, mad, insane, demented…

Jensen's head was starting to hurt again.

"Screw you, screw fuckin' you!" he spit out, some of his spit hitting Jared directly on his cheek, sliding down around Jared's mole.

Out of no where, out of fucking no where, there was something shiny flashing through the air and embedding itself into the wood, right next to his left ear with a sharp noise that made him twitch. One inch to the right and he would've lost his ear. Jensen breathed fast for a few seconds, his hot breath fogging up the silver blade.

"I'm trying to be nice here!"

And then he just stopped breathing altogether, his eyes wide and going from the knife's blade next to his ear up to Jared's eyes so fuckin' close to his, to Jared's arm that was holding the knife's handle.

"Breathe, man."

His eyes were moving from the knife to Jared's eyes, to Jared's arm. Knife, eyes, arm.

Knife, eyes, arm.

His lungs hurt.

He probably pissed himself again.

His chest hurt.

"Breathe, Jensen or you'll pass out."

Pass out?

Sounded like a plan.

The problem was … he was too scared to pass out. Make himself that vulnerable?

He sucked, but he doesn't suck that bad.

So he pulled in a breath, expanding his chest as much as he could with Jared's body pressing down on him and that fuckin' belt across his chest.

"Good," Jared breathed out, "so where were we, before you pissed me off?"

For the life of him, Jensen couldn't remember, because gummy bear breath was in his nose again.

-:-

"Oh yeah," Jared's head was blocking the light and Jensen could see a drop of sweat linger on a loose lock of Jared's brown hair, and then falling down onto his chest … he could feel that drop of sweat hit his skin, tickling him, "it's the abillity to not smell a goddamn thing."

In between breathing and trying not to pass out, he said: "What?"

"The anosmia ... it's a disease, illness whatever ... some neurological shit, I don't know ... whatever you wanna call it ... where you can't smell shit. Literally."

They were silent for a while, not really sure how to continue this ... and then Jensen swallowed, ignored the knife's blade so close to his ear and Jared's eyes so close to his and said: "You have it?"

"Hmm?"

"You have it?"

"Had it."

"You got cured?"

Keep him talking. Keep the crazy man taking.

"Cured?"

Jensen could see confusion on Jared's face transform into a smile… it was fuckin' weird.

"In a way, yeah. We can say I got cured."

The man was not talking. Fuck, fuck, fuck … now what? That blade was so close …

"Jensen…"

A flicker of hope went through Jensen's chest.

"When I was fourteen, right, I got shot. Right here," he rose up a little, never taking his hand from the knife's handle and ran the index finger of his left hand over the scar again, remembering what happened thirteen years ago, "the doctors said that I was lucky I survived. Man, I swear…" he smiled, "I had anosmia since I was born and then BAM!," Jensen flinched at the loud 'bam', "I get shot and when I wake up in the hospital, I could smell, ya know? The first thing that I smelled was blood and sweat and fear. How fucked up is that? I couldn't smell a goddamned thing for fourteen years and then when I could smell, I get hit with that."

"Yeah, yeah … fucked up."

But man it sure explained a lot.

"So in a way … getting shot was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Jensen blinked. He could understand. Or try to, anyway. But smelling … that was something just so … normal to him that he couldn't imagine not being able to smell.

Huh…

"And you know what else, man?"

Jensen resisted the urge to shake his head 'no'.

"When I fell on the floor, on that street, blood seeping out of the wound, people's faces all scared above me … I closed my eyes … and all I could see was darkness. Ya know? No light, nothing. Just … fuckin' darkness. As in pitch black, ya know? Pitch fuckin' black."

He pulled the knife out of the table suddenly and quickly dragged it just below Jensen's collar bone, not deep really … it wouldn't even scar. The blade separated the skin like it was butter, blood needing some time to push through the shallow cut.

"Do you see darkness too? Huh, man? Do you? When you close your eyes, like you're doing now! What do you see? Tell me!"

Jensen saw darkness beneath his eyelids. He saw darkness even when his eyes were open. He felt pain and he saw darkness.

The world was dark.

"I se- see dark-, fuuck, darkness." He muttered, hissing, gasping for breath. The cut didn't hurt, not really, but it was done fast and it stung and made him wanna put his hand over it to sooth it and the hot blood spilling down his ribs to the table tickled.

Jared stopped smelling the blade; oh the aroma of blood mixed with sweat: "Told ya."

**TBC…**


	8. Chapter 8

Jensen shivered, looking at the knife Jared was holding in his hand.

The blade that was moments ago slicing through his skin had a smidge of blood on it, just a little bit … just so much that Jared was … smelling it?

Jensen wanted to close his eyes, but … watching Jared smell the blood on the knif e… his fuckin' blood … blood for crying out loud … was fascinating.

Jared got his smell back, after smelling nothing, nothing at all for fourteen years and … now he smelled blood as his favorite thing to do?

So messed up … and yet … fascinating.

Jensen cleared his throat: "Why did you get shot?"

"'s the darkness gone now?"

Jensen didn't know what to say to that … and when you didn't know what to say to something … it was better to ignore it.

"Who shot ya?"

-:-

Jared sighed and placed the knife by Jensen's head, watching with a smirk when Jensen rotated his head to look at it … probably thinking: so close, yet so far away.

He bent down to dig through his duffle, finding a new T-shirt and putting it on. Being naked was not his style. Victims were the ones to be naked, victims were the ones who had to be presented to him with skin and only skin.

"Store robbery gone wrong, or something. Wrong place, wrong time. I don't know. My parents told me what happened, but man … I was just ... smelling, ya know! I just wanted to smell stuff."

Jensen understood that. He did. Don't ask him why, but … he understood. Four years ago his leg got hurt, knee still hurtin' sometimes like a sonofabitch, but when he made that first step; first step after weeks of healing … nothing else mattered.

Just walking. That mattered.

Running. That mattered too.

"Yeah, know about that. Wrong place, wrong time."

He licked his lips, feeling them dry and chapped.

Jared grabbed the knife again, ending the conversation just like that watching Jensen flinch and pull his fingers into a fist.

As if that would help him.

As if that would save him.

As if that would make a difference.

Well, it wouldn't.

-:-

Jensen stared up at Jared's face … some would say that a battle was going on between them … who'd win, was the million dollar question.

And then Jared placed his left hand near Jensen's head and leaned down, the knife still held strongly in his grasp.

Jared won. He'd always win.

"You have all this … perfect skin, ya know? Perfect, man … it just begs to be painted on."

Jensen flinched and hissed when he felt something cold on his hot skin; something running from his neck, down the middle of his chest, around his belly button and back up to his neck.

"So beautiful … can you imagine it turning red?"

The coldness was back, now running from his neck, around his right nipple, zigzagging on his stomach, around his left nipple and back to his neck.

He raised his head up as much as he could and saw that the coldness was actually the back of the knife sliding over his heated skin.

"Fuck…" he cursed and banged his head on Jared's T-shirt that cushioned the impact.

Fuck … now he couldn't even knock himself out. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Red and white, man… red and white are the new black and white," Jared chuckled, "well they are in here."

Jensen wanted to throw up.

-:-

And then the sliding of Jared's knife up and down Jensen's body stopped; stopped in the middle of his chest, slid up a tiny bit and rested right on top of his heart, pushing in a little.

"I wonder if I'd stay like this for a while, if I could feel your heartbeat through the knife? What do ya think?"

Jensen closed his eyes. What did he think? He thought that his heart would soon put up a 'I quit' sign, if this'd go on for much longer.

"Open 'em. Come on."

Jensen opened his eyes just in time to see Jared spin the knife around and placing the tip of it above the place where Jensen's heart was beating wildly underneath and pressed in, puncturing the skin.

"Right here... shot me right here." he rotated the knife: "Shhhh…" until the tip of it was carving out a circle, a little bigger than a bullet's one and Jensen screamed: "Jared, stoopppp! Fuuuuuuuck, stooooop!"

Jared looked up at that; looked at Jensen's tightly closed eyes - a tear spilling through the lashes - and bared teeth and placed his left hand on Jensen's forehead, keeping the man's head to the table: "Don't move, 's okay, 's alright…" and rotated the knife one last time, taking away a round piece of skin.

"Now you'll have a scar," he stroked Jensen's forehead, feeling almost dizzy at how great it felt to hear Jensen scream, "there too. Just like me."

Jared looked at the bloody piece of skin that was hanging off of the tip of his favorite knife and brought it to his nose: "Fuckin' smells so fuckin' awesome." and threw it into a plastic bag: "Can't leave any evidence, right?" Jensen didn't know where the bag came from nor did he care, because what Jared just did…

Jensen saw darkness again.

Darkness.

-:-

Waking up was nothing special. Hadn't been for a long time … either it was nightmares or memories … but he always woke up sweating and thirsty with the last of his screams still attached to his lips.

"Jensen, okay… hey, come on… wake up, but don't move, alright?"

Who was that? Was he being saved? Was that the police, doctors, someone, anyone?

"H'lp." he croaked out and smacked his lips together after he unstuck his tongue from his teeth.

"Calm down, man. Alright?

Jensen opened his eyes and saw Jared.

He wanted to cry, was probably crying, but whatever. He pissed himself in front of this man, and seriously … crying was not the most embarrassing thing he already did here.

"Those were some dreams, man."

"Sc'w ya." He pulled in a breath, his chest feeling tight.

"Come on, man, haven't we been down that road before? Better just get used to being here, alright?"

"What… did you do to me?"

"Gave you a little… memento." Jared said and tapped a finger lightly on the bullet sized wound that was now covered with white gauze; the smell of some sort of antiseptic strong in the air.

Jensen raised his head up and saw … and then felt the pain.

It burned. Uff, fuck it burned and stung and before he knew it … he saw darkness again.

Darkness was becoming his friend.

Darkness was good.

-:-

He had no way of telling how long he'd been here, in this room, strapped to the table with the maniac looking at him like he wanted to eat him or drink him or smell him or whatthefuckever.

"You were dreaming again, man."

"Everyone dreams."

"You dream … nightmares."

"What do you care? What? Just … stop it."

"I can smell … when you wake up … your fear… it feels alive."

Jensen groaned. Jared was making no sense to him whatsoever. Maybe … maybe if he just noded, pretended that he got it, maybe then Jared would back off.

"I can't make you understand, Jensen."

"Then stop."

"Can't do that either."

_Goddamnit._

-:-

Jensen was looking through the window at how the night was fading and listened to Jared breathe next to him.

"I can show you … maybe then … maybe then you'll understand."

Jensen startled. Jared's voice was coming from somewhere near and Jensen started to fear for his sanity alongside his life. Maybe, maybe … maybe his sanity would go bye, bye first and then his life could follow, because without his sanity … well … what would be the point?

And then he felt it … a pressure at the cut Jared made below his collar bone, then the pressure started to sting and then burn and then it felt as if Jared put his whole finger into the small cut.

Oh wait a second … Jared did put his finger into the cut.

"Stoppppfuckyou!"

Jensen raised his head up just in time to see Jared's index finger dipped into the cut and raising skin up to the point of just ripping it off when Jared moved the finger left and right, gathering blood.

"Fuuuuuuckstoph, stoppah!"

_Motherfucker…_ _but it hurt._

And then Jared stopped as suddenly as he started.

Jensen was gasping for breath, his eyes closed … seeing darkness beneath his eyelids.

"Open your eyes."

Jensen shook his head.

No.

No.

No.

"Open. Your. Eyes. Jensen. Or do I have to get the duct tape?"

 _Fucker_ …

Jensen opened his eyes, still gasping for breath when he saw Jared's finger covered in blood, the red liquid running down the finger and dripping down on Jensen's chest.

Jensen wasn't one of those who faint when they see their own blood or well blood in general, but in that moment … he wanted to faint. Wanted to just … go back to that darkness.

But instead he started to laugh, ignoring the way Jared was looking at him. Dark eyes and lips tightly pressed together.

Jensen stopped laughing when Jared put his finger to Jensen's nose.

"Smell it, man. Smell it … tell me … what do you smell?"

So. Apparently Jared could get even more insane. Good to know.

"Screw you." Jensen hissed and turned his head away from the finger, but the finger followed.

"Tell me."

"Fuck you."

"Jensen," Jared sighed, "we really were down this road before. There's a nice way and there's the … not so nice way. Your choice, dude."

_Fuck…_

… but Jensen smelled it.

"Smells like … iron, rust."

Jared smiled: "'s what everyone says … but just smell it … go deeper."

Jensen sniffed at the finger, trying to ignore how the blood was … his. And it still smelled like iron, rust, what everyone says.

"Still smells like fuckin' rust."

Jared removed his finger from in front of Jensen's face and Jensen breathed out like he'd just been hit with fresh air and saw Jared raise the finger to his own nose and inhale deeply.

"It smells sweet … smells like life, Jensen. Life. Sometimes it runs right underneath your skin," he slid the bloody finger over the veins in Jensen's wrist, painting them red, "sometimes it runs a little deeper, sometimes you can bring it up to surface so easily, other times you have to work for it, but in the end … it's your life. And right now, it's me who can take that away from you … or not."

Jensen wanted darkness. Wanted to go away. Wanted to live. Wanted that red liquid to never stop filling his veins, because he understood now. He understood life.

-:-

Jensen lost some time, he knew that the second he opened his eyes and the light was turned off and the sun was shining right on him, directly on his chest.

He looked at the man who kidnapped him and hurt him and all he could think about was how one person could be so … sick.

Jared stood by the table, hands across his chest, probably deciding, deep in thought, which knife to use for whatever he'd do next and the next moment his hand was on Jensen's forehead and Jared's eyes were locked with his.

The change was instantaneous, made in a blink of an eye and it caught Jensen completely unprepared, with no way of defending himself, of no way to think up something to distract that madness shining in Jared's eyes.

He couldn't breathe when Jared leaned down, going right in his face and whispered softly: "Dunno what it is 'bout ya, can't figure it out, but…"

Jared shook his head and ran his hand through Jensen's sweaty hair.

Jensen blinked the sweat from his eyes and tried so hard to ignore the candy smelling breath that Jared breathed next to his cheek.

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

He yelled, squirming on the table, trying to put some distance between himself and Jared but … he was tied down.

Jared tied mean knots.

"No, no, no, stay still, yeah?"

Those eyes of Jared's watching him … the softness in them, those sparks of something, something mean yet kind.

Jensen squirmed and closed his eyes. He needed to block Jared's eyes, hell his entire face. Just ... go into some happy place inside his head, just ... hide inside his mind.

But he couldn't find any happy places in his mind. Only the one with his sister offering him gummy bears, but that just reminded him of how Jared's breath smelled.

He was screwed.

-:-

"Open your eyes, man. Wanna see that fear in them, come on. Open them. Can't make you understand, right … you'll never get it … showed you, you just didn't get it, but…"

The words send a shiver down Jensen's spine. But he did get it. He understood. He did. It was life in his veins, not just blood. It was never just blood. It was life.

_Sonofabitch …_ _'m getting as insane as Jared is. Dear Lord help me._

And no, no, no, opening his eyes would just make him see Jared and that would bring back reality and he couldn't handle reality right now.

He needed a happy place.

But he didn't have any.

"Jensen…" it was said as a whisper, Jared's breath tickling Jensen's nose, making him crave gummy bears, "… open your eyes, goddamnit!"

Jared yelled and Jensen opened his eyes out of instinct. Someone yells, you do what it's yelled.

"That's it…" Jensen couldn't not look directly into Jared's hair obscured eyes. They were almost … hypnotizing him into calmness.

Only when a flicker of madness flashed through them did Jensen want to fight or just die already.

"Why are you doing this? Just…" he swallowed; his mouth was so dry.

"If you let me go, I swear I'll never tell, I swear ... I swear it man."

"Nawh … don't think so…"

Jensen left out a breath when Jared's eyes finally left his and travelled down his nose, mouth, chin, chest to stop and stay put on his right arm.

The knife … he could feel the cool steel of it pressing against his forearm, his skin warming it up fast, until all he could feel was the pressure of the tip travelling up and down his arm.

Jared's left hand stayed on Jensen's forehead, his palm pressing his head down to the soft T-shirt, his thumb stroking Jensen's temple in smooth, small circles.

"Just wanna see you bleed again. Fuckin' addictive, man."

Jared whispered and before Jensen found something to say to that, before he could even draw in a quick breath, Jared pressed the knife through Jensen's skin and pulled.

Jensen screamed, closed his eyes and buckled up, pressing his head down and up, but was stopped by Jared's palm on his head pressing him down.

"Shhhh, shhh. 's okay, 's okay."  
Were the words that made Jensen pull in a breath and cry out: "Fuuuuck!"

"You bleed … perfectly."

There was awe in Jared's voice as if he never saw anyone bleed before, as if he never saw Jensen bleed before.

-:-

Jensen wanted to throw up at the feeling of wetness and cold pain that started to run down his wrist.

"Makes me wanna cut you all over, man. Make you bleed all over."

"No … stop, stop. Man, please…"

His pleading died on the tip of his dry tongue when Jared cut up from his elbow to his shoulder.

There was no air in the room, there was only him screaming himself hoarse.

When he sucked in a breath finally after what felt like eternity, Jared's smile was what greeted him.

"Stop, please … stop … stop." He whimpered, choking on a sob. Fuck, but he would not cry. Not again. No more.

Even though tears were already running down his face. But those were tears of pain, it wasn't crying.

"Hey, hey … 's okay…" Jared said while stroking the sweaty spikes of Jensen's hair, "I'll take my time." And then leaning down to smell at the blood running down Jensen's arm: "Smells so good."

-:-

The clank of Jared putting down the knife was sharp, the press of something against the cuts was soft, Jared's hand on his forehead was scorching hot … and Jensen just wanted to breathe.

He looked up at the light, imagining a ceiling, imagining he didn't hurt like someone lit his arm on fuckin' fire.

But there was just darkness.

Jared and darkness.

Jared with a needle in his hand, pushing out air, with clear liquid shining at the tip.

"What…" he swallowed, "what's that?"

Jared smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.

"Jared…"

Jensen eyed the needle coming down to his arm: "Don't … don't, please don't…"

He started to panic … with no idea of what was in that syringe he had no way of bracing himself for whatever was to come. What if Jared would just poison him and leave him to choke on his last breaths, or what if the poison would liquefy his organs and Jared would watch 'em run out of Jensen's nose … what if…

He was starting to hyperventilate. This was bad. Fucked up and bad.

"Love that fear in your eyes, the tremble in your voice … you have no idea."

"Jared, ju- just tell- tell me."

Jensen raised his head up as much as he could to see, but all he could do was feel the sting and pressure of whatever the needle held being pushed into his vein.

"Just gonna fall asleep, alright? Gonna relax a little…"

Jared stroked his hair when something started to pull him under. Heavy eyes….

"Close your eyes…"

He did.

-:-

There was a tiny slither of light coming to burn his iris making him blink.

There was a dull kinda pain in his head making him groan. Whatever Jared gave him, must've knocked him out for some time because the sun was really hot on his skin now, burning his wounds, making him smell the blood, his life.

"You're awake. Good, real good."

"Huh?"

He tried to lift up his hands, wipe across his eyes at the tears forming there and then remembering that his hands were tied down, his legs were tied down and there was still that fuckin' belt across his chest making it harder to breathe.

Really hard to breathe.

Fuck.

Air.

He needed air.

And then Jared started laughing out loud; one of those laughs that come from deep down, from deep within your belly and soul and never seem to stop, until you cry yourself out with laughter.

Jensen was still trying to catch his breath, almost whining with how much he needed to get some air into his burning lungs. He hurt … he hurt everywhere.

"Whatcha … whatcha laug- laughing about, ya fuck- fucker?"

Jared leaned over Jensen and looked right into his teary green eyes; those eyes that held so much fear, so much unshed tears, so much pain Jared could drown in it.

"Was that as good for ya as it was for me?" Jared whispered.

Jensen's lips pulled up into a grin: "Fuck- fuckin bet - better, man."

Jared smiled so wide that his dimples showed: "You're one crazy fucker, ya know that?"

Jensen grinned wider: "Fuck … fuck yeah," his eyes sparkling with the same kinda want, need, madness Jared's eyes always possessed.

"Now untie me, man. I'm loosing feelings in my arms."

"Okay, just … come down from the high first okay? Just catch your breath and relax, alright and I'll untie you in a sec."

He started to untie Jensen; feeling the man's hands tremble slightly under his fingers, hearing Jensen try desperately to catch his breath, being really careful not to touch any bandages, not to disturb any wounds. He knocked Jensen out so that he could bandage him, and he knew that he bandaged him well, he knew that, he stitched him up so that there would be no scars on that perfect skin … he was good at what he did. Always was, always would be.

He grabbed Jensen's left hand and pulled him into a sitting position: "You okay? Dizzy? Wanna lie down for a minute longer?"

"What the fuck? No. 'm fine."

"Okay, okay…" Jared raised his hands away from Jensen's and watched the man sway a little, gripping his head with his hands.

"Okay, man, just rest for a while, alright? We have time. Just breathe and relax, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're right," he cleared his throat, "did you stitch the cuts okay?"

"You … don't trust me?"

Jensen looked up, still massaging his right temple with his fingers and blinked.

Jared looked hurt. He actually looked hurt by that question, his puppy dog eyes coming out to play, full of … hurt.

"I trust you. Trust you with my fuckin' life, man ya know that … don't ever question that again."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Blood loss, 's fucking with my head."

Jared smiled at that: "Okay, alright, do you want to rest for a while longer?"

He looked around the room, down at the bloody table, down at the bucket full of his blood and piss: "Naw, let's get the hell out of here, man."

-:-

The inside of the SUV was hot and bright, with the midday sun shining directly into the front windshield.

Jensen was looking at all his bandages, pressing his fingers on them, wanting to feel that sting, needing to feel that pain…

"Wouldja stop that, man? You're gonna break the stitches."

"Shut up 'n drive."

He didn't stop poking at the stitches and he knew that deep down Jared knew why he was doing it.

-:-

The road was long. It was just long. It was always long. Always … going from town to town, state to state … always on the road.

But Jensen never felt more alive. More at peace. The cuts on his body were stinging a lot, but he – fuck, what possessed him to even ask Jared that – trusted Jared, he knew that Jared did everything to make sure that there would be no permanent damage, no permanent marks, no infections, no nothing.

Except for the 'bullet' wound. That … that Jensen wanted. He wanted to have that … wanted to know how it felt for Jared, wanted to be one step closer to knowing his friend … he just wanted.

"Hey ... I uh ... when you were out ... like when you were sleeping ... when I was bandaging you up and ya know … stitching you up … you ... what were you dreaming about? You didn't wanna say…"

Jared looked at Jensen sitting in the passenger seat. That man was Jared's darkness. He was his darkness from the moment they met.

"Was dreaming about the accident, ya know …" Jensen husked out, "four years ago."

Jared shifted gears, going a little slower.

"Your knee okay? I was real careful, man. Didn't hit it or anything."

"Yeah…" Jensen rubbed his knee, thinking about the accident; drunk driver, wrong place, wrong time.

"'s fine," he thought back at how that drunk driver gave him three broken ribs, broken arm and a busted leg.

"'s fine." He murmured, knowing that Jared would never, ever cause him pain there … his knee was off limits and Jared knew that.

"You remember..."

Jared didn't get the chance to finish before Jensen's: "Man, how can I forget?" interrupted him.

And really … Jensen would never forget how they tracked down the driver and man was he a screamer. For a guy who gets drunk all the time and almost kills someone, he screamed like a chick, all high notes and all. And he … he was Jensen's first kill. It was really amazing to watch … the way Jensen cut the skin over the guy's ribs into little strips, how he cut right into the guy's knee and then went around it with Mr. Fat, and how he cut and cut and cut at the man's arm.

Now that was what Jared called poetic justice.

Jensen took his time, but when he cut the guy's throat just like that, Jared tsked. It was just too fast … and cutting someone's throat was just so … clichéd. But he told Jensen, that next time … next time would be better.

"That was awesome, man. Just awesome. You," Jared pointed at Jensen, "were awesome."

Jensen just grinned.

-:-

"Was dreamin' of … when we met too. When you … took me."

Took. Not kidnapped. Took. For awhile Jensen looked at it as 'kidnapped' but then … it was took. Jared took him with, took him into a new life, took him into freedom he never knew before.

Saved him.

Jared swallowed and smiled: "Man, ya pissed and shitted yourself that night. I thought I was gonna pass out from all those smells."

"I was freaking out, dude. You were a goddamned psycho, man. Just … talking all that shit, man you're lucky I didn't have a heart attack or something."

Jared adjusted his sunglasses and softly said: "I'd never kill ya, you know?"

"Didn't know that then, did I?"

"'m sorry, I kept telling you that and..."

"'s kinda hard to believe someone who's cutting into you, ya know?"

"Yeah ... yeah, I know."

But it was true ... Jared would never have killed Jensen … he was his canvas when everything else failed, when he couldn't find someone to be his next victim, when there was no one to take and paint and Jensen loved it. Craved it. Wanted it so badly, it made Jared's chest hurt with how lucky he got on that night four years ago. To find Jensen of all people in a small desert town's bar, for crying out loud.

Jared cleared his throat: "'m sorry."

"Don't be, man. Just ... don't okay ... coz I'm not sorry, never was sorry. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay ... just ... the blood on you, how hot it was when I put my fingers in the cuts ... man, I knew I wouldn't kill ya.."

Jensen cleared his throat and looked out the window. The desert in the hot midday sun. Loneliness in its finest form.

"When you first cut into me ... I felt more alive than ever, man. Just ... so ... and then the blood started flowing and I felt free, ya know? Like ... free ... I loved it."

"Yeah ... you said that pretty loudly back then."

Jared remembered it so clearly how Jensen all of a sudden started forming words with his screams. Yeah, those were awesome memories that he'd treasure forever.

"You remember when we killed your sis?" Jared asked.

"Fuck yeah … that bitch was screaming so loudly gave me a headache."

Yeah, Jared remembered tying up her delicate wrists and then holding her head down when Jensen cut four shallow cuts across each of her wrists and then stepping back so that Jared could stitch them up.

Man, did she scream and beg: "Jensen, Jensen, don't … don't …!" and cry and sob and pass out just to be woken up again … but he just sliced her up and down nice and slow. She deserved it too, always treating him like a piece of shit.

He showed her then … the little bitch.

"Sorry we couldn't do that today too."

"We can go piss on her grave."

Jared laughed. Sometimes, Jensen had the weirdest ideas.

"You ate gummy bears, could smell them on your breath and that's the closest I wanna get to my sis."

"Had to give ya something."

"I think we should go piss on her grave."

Jared laughed and shifted gears: "Maybe tomorrow."

There was silence after that, both remembering that day, that night four years ago when Jared first took Jensen out of that bar.

When Jared first touched all that smooth skin and made that first cut.

This ... what they did last night was their way of 'celebrating the anniversary' ... in their own twisted way, but still a way.

It was Jensen's idea … to re-enact the events of that night. He wanted Jared to give him a scar. The 'bullet' scar, he said.

"I want the scar you have. From when you were shot. I want it. Wanna feel it."

Jared was all for it, having a plan made in his head even before Jensen finished the sentence.

But then he asked: "You trust me?" because he had to make sure. Had to … make sure. Even though they had been friends for four years now, gone through some kills and shit … Jared had to ask. Make sure.

"Fuck you!" was all the answer Jared got.

-:-

"Here," Jared reached behind to the back seat and dropped the heavy duffle on Jensen's lap, "Mr. Skinny needs some cleaning."

"Ah, he's my favorite, man. Fuckin' hurts the most when you stick it under my skin."

Jared grinned and nodded: "I know."

Jensen helped name the knives on that dark, long stretch of road all those years ago.

"Man, I need a kill. I can feel it under my skin ... man, this was like .. foreplay."

Jensen looked at him and smirked: "I got an idea."

To be honest, he could feel the need inside him too and what he and Jared just did … yeah, it was foreplay.

-:-

**2 am:**

They were at the same bar, sitting on the same chairs, with the same bartender serving them cold beer, spilling it all over the counter.

**2.10am** **:**

Closing time.

**2.43 am** **:**

The bartender was lying nice and comfy drugged out of his mind on the backseat of the black SUV, with Jared driving 90 down the road and Jensen cleaning Mr. Skinny.

"Man, he's fat. We'll have to cut real deep to get some blood out of him."

"No worries, you just get that knife clean."

**3.44** **am:**

The bartender was screaming himself hoarse lying on the blood drenched table.

"Please, please, don't ... don't … fuuuuuuuuck!"

"Shut up you fat piece of shit. 'm gonna spill your blood like you spilled my beer all over the counter."

Jared stood back and observed Jensen. Watched his best friend work his magic.

He taught Jensen some things, some he picked up on his own through years of practice but really … Jensen was a natural and Jared felt proud.

Proud of his best friend.

Of his darkness.

**The E** **nd**


End file.
